I am dead
by Kaitou-san
Summary: oh dear, naruto is... ? hmm. its a page of suicidal, angsty... thoughts? perhaps. I'm not even sure. jus r&r. possible adult themes and onesided yaoi love. of the sasunaru kind. dont panic.


This is a one shot. Naruto-centric. Kind of like a suicide note, or at least a train of thought. Depends on how you take it. I'm not your master, and I'm not telling you how to.

I felt suicidal. My family are bastards. I hate my father. Hand to keyboard is my only release. Because I'm not a guy and therefore cannot wank all my troubles away. Damn.

Sue me. I don't care. But I will say they're not mine, simply because that's less troublesome.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It hurt.

It hurt when I died.

You have no idea, what it was like. The deep, penetrating loneliness. It never left me, not even in my restless nightmares. Not even when I wasn't sleeping alone. Whether it's a thousand kunai from my loves hand each night, or a careless blow from your average enraged villager, or even a casual nick from the razor, the mental anguish, suffering and loneliness always outweighed the physical. Even drinking myself into a semi-conscious stupor each night didn't help. I was just more vulnerable to the villagers punishment. I don't even get a hangover as a slight distraction. No, that fucking fox heals it straight away.

It was like fucking magic. Every time I nearly died, when I was close to eternal peaceful sleep, I got pulled back from the brink. By a fucking demon.

Ironic, no? A demon. A killer. Something so evil and dark. Yet it kept saving my sorry ass. Like dark fucking Spiderman. A villainous hero.

But I won in the end. I always have. I'm a last minute kind of guy. Well I was. Back when I was alive.

Ah, you must be confused. Didn't he just say, that he keept being saved, that he keept being healed, that he still survived? Or, at the very least, how can he be writing this if he's dead?

Well, I'm sorry to tell you, because I know you're all so disappointed, but I'm still alive. Technically. Go on, don't deny it. If you don't blame me for the very creature that keeps me breathing, you blamed me for losing him.

Ah… him. The darkness. The raven haired beauty, with eyes obsidian as midnight, and pure skin like the moonlight. Hands that looked so gentle, even when they were delivering harsh, torturous blows on my empty form. Lips, so smooth and warm, even when they we're cursing me, each thing I ever touched, my very soul. Legs, so supple and slender, even when they were walking away from my broken silhouette forever.

I still remember that day. The day he left. The day the sun forever set. The day I died.

I was pathetic. Even before that day, I was a useless, second rate ninja. What hope did I ever have of ever have of becoming Hokage? If I could, I would laugh at my perverse behaviour back then. I always secretly knew, deep down, that it would never happen anyway.

But I died. My heart shattered into a million unfixable pieces. I broke. I become an empty, ghost-like shell.. Like a vase, containing a shredded rose. Uzamaki Naruto died that day.

All I am now is an ANBU mask. A shadow. A disposable body. Soulless. Lifeless. Worthless. A piece of trash.

Because I love him. He killed me. But my body lives on. So be it. Nothing much matters to me anymore. I am dead.

My dreams? Gone. Destroyed. Cut to shreds by nightmares and visions, Flashbacks of that day. The memories I cannot escape.

Hokage? I don't want it. Sometimes I even wonder why I don't just quit being ANBU. Why should I protect this village? This shit hole? I'm as unwelcome here as a pool in a town of the hydrophobic.

My friends? Liars, who blame me for his leaving. Maybe they're right. Maybe he left because he knew. But he couldn't have. How could he have known that he was my sun, moon, the very reason of my existence? I was a male, his ally, his rival. Nothing more.

Rival. The idea seems so strange now. At the time, it was wonderful. Even if he was competing, he was still paying attention to me.

Gods, I'm hopeless. He is dead to me. As dead as I am. As dead as I might as well be. But It still hurts.

It still hurts, even though I am dead.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Think what you will of this, just review, and tell me. Criticism would be nice. Hell, even a sentence. I'll even take a string of letters. Anything.


End file.
